


Mudblood

by FantasticNumberNine



Series: John Watson and the Chamber of Secrets [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Crossover, Detention, Gen, Gross, Potterlock, john starts hearing voices, nimbus two thousand and ones, quidditch practice, slug burping, some rude insults, some witty insults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticNumberNine/pseuds/FantasticNumberNine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quidditch practice leads to an unexpected confrontation with the Slytherin team and Moriarty delivers a grave insult to Mycroft, Greg throws up slugs, and John hears voices in detention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mudblood

**Author's Note:**

> *disclaimer*
> 
> Meant to post this earlier, my apologies.

John had been looking forward to the weekend--had spent the rest of his week dodging Lockhart--and going down to visit Hagrid with Greg and Mycroft on Saturday. He was less than pleased to be woken at an ungodly hour by Oliver Wood, even for quidditch. Only half conscious, he scribbled a note for Greg and Mycroft to let them know where he'd gone.

Had he been more awake, he'd have gone back to bed when Colin Creevey accosted him on the stairs with his _stupid_ camera and his _stupid_ developed photos, asking him to _sign_ them--

"Absolutely _not_."

\--And of course Colin just had to come watch the quidditch practice and John was pestered into explaining the sport on their way to the pitch.

Where Wood talked at the team for _ages_ , and by the time they made their way out of the locker room for _actual_ practice, Greg and Mycroft were sitting in the stands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" Greg called out.

"Haven't even started yet," John shouted back, shrugging in exasperation.

They were in the air for about five minutes before Wood stopped them over Colin's photographic proclivities, which was when the Slytherin team arrived.

"I've got a specially signed note from Professor Snape. _I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing to the need train their new Seeker._ "

"You've got a new Seeker?" The information seemed to have distracted Wood from his initial outrage. "Where?"

The small, pale and sharp, figure of Jim Moriarty stepped through the six larger Slytherin players with a broad grin.

When the team showed off their brand new Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones, the Gryffindor team was stunned into silence.

"What's happening?" Greg had come down onto the grass, Mycroft trailing behind him, a heavy book in hand. "Why aren't you playing--what's _he_ doing here?"

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Lestrade," Moriarty beamed. "Everyone's just been admiring the new brooms my father bought our team."

Greg gaped in reluctant admiration of the seven, shining broomsticks wielded by the Slytherin team.

"Pretty, aren't they?" Moriarty said brightly. "Perhaps the Gryffindor team could raise some gold for their own set--you could auction those Cleansweep Fives, I'm sure a museum would bid on them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Mycroft snapped. "They got in on pure talent."

Moriarty's smile slid into a sneer. 

"No one asked you your opinion, you pudgy little Mudblood."

John recognized immediately that Moriarty had said something very bad because of the instant uproar--Fred and George were bodily blocked by Flint from attacking Moriarty and Alicia was shrieking, but it was Greg who whipped out his wand shouting:

"You'll pay for that one, Moriarty!"

There was a loud bang and a jet of light shooting out the wrong end of Greg's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him backwards onto the grass.

Mycroft was at his side immediately. "Gregory! Are you alright?"

A part of John saw the question as evidence to how shaken Mycroft was, but was distracted by the slugs that dribbled out of Greg's mouth when he attempted to speak and only managed to belch.

The Slytherins were laughing somewhere behind him, and no one on the Gryffinder side seemed to want to get close to Greg anymore. John met Mycroft's eyes and the pair of them helped Greg to Hagrid's--John nearly murdering Colin on the way, who wanted to take pictures, and hiding in a bush when they saw Hagrid escorting Lockhart out of his home.

Hagrid's solution was to give Greg a bucket, and Mycroft visibly bit back what John knew to be a scathing comment about Hagrid's usefulness. 

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?"

"Tried ter tell me how te get kelpies out of a well--like I don' know. An' goin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

John was surprised to hear Hagrid insulting a Hogwarts teacher, but pleasantly so considering it was Lockhart. 

Mycroft, however, responded in a snootier tone than usual, "I think you're being quite unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job--"

"He was the _only_ man for the job," Hagrid muttered, offering them a plate of fudge while Greg continued to cough up slugs. "So tell me, who was he tryin' ter curse?" 

"Moriarty called Mycroft, something... Bad, from what I could tell."

"It _was_ bad," Greg said, pale and sweaty over his bucket. "Moriarty called him a 'Mudblood,' Hagrid."

"He didn't!" Hagrid growled, looking at Mycroft.

Mycroft was staring at his hands, "He did."

John looked up at the ceiling, "Is anyone going to tell me what it _means_?"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," Greg gasped as he looked up. "'Mudblood' is a really foul name for someone muggle-born. Some wizards, like Moriarty's family, are stuck up arseholes who think they're better than everyone else because they're 'Pure-bloods.'" Greg paused for a moment to burp up anther slug, "Which is ridiculous, really, I mean, look at Molly Hooper--she's pure-blood and she can't do a levitating charm without something exploding."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Mycroft can't do," Hagrid said proudly, and Mycroft went a brilliant shade of magenta.

John thought their visit with Hagrid had considerably brightened his weekend, by the end of it Greg had stopped throwing up slugs and they'd gotten Mycroft to laugh a few times. 

But they'd hardly entered the castle before Professor McGonagall stopped John and Greg to assign them their detentions for the flying car incident. Greg would be polishing trophies with Filch--John would have sold his soul to join him instead of helping _Lockhart_ with his fan mail, but no one seemed interested in buying.

He sat beside Lockhart for what felt like several eternities, addressing envelopes and pretending to listen to the man's advice and stories and wondering when he'd be released from this cruel and unusual torture.

" _Come... Come to me... Let me rip you... Let me tear you... Let me kill you..._ "

John jumped, a huge stain of lilac blotting out Veronica Smethley's address.

" _What_?"

"I know! Six months at--"

"No, god, not you--the voice!"

"Sorry? What voice?"

"You..." John trailed off, he hadn't heard it?

"What _are_ you talking about, John? Perhaps you're getting a bit drowsy? Great Scott--look at the time!"

When he returned to the dormitory, Greg was still gone, and he waited with Mycroft for his return. Keeping his voice low--so as not to wake Dean and Seamus--he told Greg and Mycroft what he had heard, and how Lockhart hadn't heard anything at all.

"Do you think he was lying?" Greg asked.

"Why would he lie about not hearing a disembodied voice?" Mycroft scoffed.

"Wait, but, I don't understand. Even an invisible person would have had to open the door," Greg said.

"I know. I don't understand it either."

They said nothing more, and John closed his eyes and slept.

**Author's Note:**

> Mycroft isn't omniscient (yet), but he's ambitious and stuff, so I figure he's going to recognize the word "Mudblood" from some supplementary history and cultural texts...


End file.
